


Practiced fingers

by Ivartheboneme



Series: Five days of smut [3]
Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: F/M, Sigurd being sweet, Sigurd playing the lute for you, Sigurd x big boobs reader, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-25 03:08:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10755489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ivartheboneme/pseuds/Ivartheboneme
Summary: Day three of Five days of smut, AKA Sigurd-day.Please note that for all of my works that have sexual content, all relevant characters are at least 18 years old. If they are not yet 18 in canon, I age them up.





	Practiced fingers

The last tunes of the melody fades away and you begin to clap your hands. Sigurd smiles and bows his head.

“Would my lady like to hear another song?” You straighten your back and look at him defiantly.

“No.”

“No?” He echoes, looking completely dumbfounded. You rise from your chair and walk over to him. Pushing gently at the lute to make him put it away, you sit down on his lap. Beginning to brush the long blonde curls away from his face, you hear him murmur _oh_ as he understands what it is that you want. It seems that the sweet boy had actually thought you had come to his room _just_ to hear him play the lute. One hand slides from his hair, down to his shoulder and then to his hand. You lift it to your face and admire his fingers.

“What nice fingers you have.” You say, pressing light kisses to each one of them. He shifts a bit in his seat.

“I do?” He asks, a puppy-like happiness radiating from his face. Instead of answering, you take the tip of his pointer finger in your mouth and begin to suck on it lightly. His breath hitches and you can see a redness starting to creep up his neck. Sigurd clears his throat.

“I have much practice with them.” He says, making you raise your eyebrows and flash a devious grin around the fingertip. The redness invades his face now and he begins to stutter, realizing what he has just said.

“With the lute, I mean.” He manages to get out. You let go of him with a small pop and bury your face on top of his head while fighting to contain your laughter. He inhales sharply, trying to decide whether or not he should seize the opportunity to feel at your bosom that is now pressed flush against him. Noticing his hesitance, you pretend that you need to reposition. He tenses as you shift your weight, your breasts dragging across his chest. The prince finally makes up his mind and you can feel a hand slowly coming to rest at your waist, pausing there briefly to squeeze at the softness through the dress before continuing upwards and brushing against the bottom of your bosom.

You let out a content sigh, urging him on. His breathing is rapidly becoming irregular and he gathers as much as he can in his hand and squeezes gently. You let a low moan escape into his soft curls and he jerks his head back to look at you. You meet his stare and begin to slowly move in his lap, left thigh rubbing against his crotch where his arousal is becoming more and more obvious. He looks at you as if in a trance and makes no move to kiss or undress you. Deciding that you need to move things along before you accidentally send him over the edge, you rise abruptly. He tries to grab you but you make sure to step right outside of his reach and find the lacing of your dress.

“Do you want me, my prince?” You whisper while deftly undoing the strings “Because I want you. Very much.” The dress falls to the ground and Sigurd practically whines at the sight of you fully naked. Whatever insecurities he has, he pushes them down; the prince shoots straight up from his chair and in a few long steps he is right in front of you. One hand goes to the small of your back and the other to your hair, pulling you closer while you meld your lips to his. He is gentle at first, like you thought he would be, but you can feel his lust deepening along with the kiss. A small clank sounds through the room as his belt lands on the ground and you help him out of his trousers. When you break apart to breathe you can see the change in his eyes; the mark of greatness seems even clearer now and it only inflames you even more, adding to the fire that's slowly spreading inside you. Sigurd slowly guides you to the bed and you lie down on the furs. He stops to take his shirt off and then covers your body with his. He leans down to nip at your bosom, groaning happily when he hears you give up small noises of pleasure.

“I bet all the boys look at you.” Sigurd says into your skin and it is obvious that he's proud of being the one chosen from many admirers. You smile weakly.

“You're not wrong.” The prince catches something in your tone and lifts his head to look at you, brow creased in confusion.

“You don't like it when they do?”

“It's not that, it's” You sigh, thinking of how to continue “They hurt my back.” You murmur after a short silence, not sure why you are telling him this. Sigurd sees your discomfort and doesn't ask any more questions. Instead, he rests his head on your stomach and begins to press kisses to your warm skin while his hand make its way further down. You squirm a bit when his fingers wander carelessly over your inner thigh.

“Ticklish.” You hiss at him and he laughs a little. Sigurd reaches your folds and glides his fingers back and forth a few times, letting them pick up some of the wetness that's gathered there. He finds the little nub and circles it carefully with his pointer finger. Moving on to your opening, he administers the same teasing treatment there; just circling it over and over. You growl at him and yank at his hair. _Don't just tease_. He works two fingers inside and starts to move them, egged on by you grinding against his hand. It is difficult to understand why he had acted so shy earlier when he clearly knows what he is doing. He curls his fingers inside you one more time and it is all you need; the fire inside you explodes, consuming you. Sigurd continues to move his fingers, allowing you to ride out the pleasure. The embers that are strewn throughout your body begin to fade away and you grab Sigurd's wrist to make him stop. You beckon to him in a soft voice.

“Come up here, my prince.” Sigurd retracts his fingers and presses one final kiss to your stomach before moving further up your body. With one hand at the back of his neck, you pull him close for a reconnecting kiss.

“I think you have practised on something other than the lute, hmm?” You purr into his ear. Sigurd blushes a little and smiles shyly.

“Maybe. Can I take you now?” Your answer is physical rather than verbal but he seems to understand it well enough; the feeling of you pressing your hips against his and slowly rolling them sends a clear message. He lines up and pushes inside, taking his time so that he can see every change in facial expression as he stretches you. Once he is fully sheathed you begin to lift your right leg; Sigurd takes the hint and helps you put it to rest over his shoulder. He brushes away the hair that has fallen into his eyes and begins to move, plunging inside you over and over. Sigurd doesn't look crazed when taking you, like most men did. Even in this moment of passion there was something sweet and calm about him. The corners of his mouth are turned up into a smile and you can't stop yourself from reciprocating it between the gasps that his actions are pulling from you. The combination of the prince's gentle nature and his strokes hitting the perfect spot sends you over the edge; your curl your toes, arch your back and let out his name hidden in a small moan. He breaks into a grin as you clamp down on him and a few thrusts later he follows you. Sigurd lets your leg down as carefully as possible and then collapses next to you. Looking into his bright blue eyes, you see that the puppy-like look is back. You tug playfully at the braids in his hair. _Sweet, goofy Sigurd_. He presses a few sloppy kisses to your cheek before pulling back again.

“Get on your stomach.” You're about to ask why but the look in his eyes says that this isn't up for discussion. You take one of the pillows and place it below your bosom to make yourself a bit more comfortable. His hands land on your back and you wonder again what he is up to. He begins to rub circles into your skin with the help of his palms.

“You said they hurt your back.”


End file.
